Prayers
by StarWars-Freak
Summary: Before they knew the monster called the Atrox, they prayed and believed. Six Followers’ thoughts on religion and their past lives.


Title: Prayers

Author: StarWars-Freak

Summary: Before they knew the monster called the Atrox, they prayed and believed. Six Followers' thoughts on religion and their past lives.

Rating: T for language

Notes: Takes place between _Goddess of the Night_ and _Into the Cold Fire._

Prayers

"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from the Evil One, for thine is Thy kingdom and Thy glory and Thy power forever, amen."

Deliver us from the evil one.

How often Kelly had knelt on the sanctuary floor saying those words softly to each herself. And to God… or so she thought.

It seemed quite obvious as she took another shot, alone in the rundown apartment they were squatting in, that God had not heard her prayer.

She had not been delivered _from_ the Evil One, but _to_.

She had heard it so many times that God lived in her heart, but the Atrox took her heart. Did that mean he killed God? It must. After all, if God was still alive, then he wouldn't let her live as she did, out of His kingdom and His glory and His power. Forever.

Forever had always seemed so big to her. Now she would live forever. At least she hoped to. When she was younger she had hoped that as well. She had hoped to go to heaven to live with the angels, playing harp in the clouds for all eternity. But God was dead, so God couldn't take her to heaven; she would have to find another way to live forever, another God. The Atrox. The Evil One. The one she had prayed to be kept away from was now her saving grace.

Amen.

--

"Hail Mary, full of grace. Our Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen."

The Virgin Mary. Cassandra never really liked Jesus. Oh, sure, he was a great guy. Dying and shit so everyone could live for all eternity in peace and happiness after they died. But Cassandra always preferred to pray to St Mary. She was a woman who could understand another woman, and she did save the world just as much as Jesus – she did have to give birth and raise him after all.

Though… Cassandra also felt sorry for the poor girl. Staying a virgin for all her life. How did Joseph deal? Maybe God made it so he never got up. That would suck.

Or perhaps it was better that way. Staying a pure virgin for all your life. If Cassandra had, she never would have fallen in love with Stanton. She never would have forsaken Mother Mary for a man. She never would have allowed the Atrox take away her soul.

Maybe Mary had it right. She never let a man control her like that. Hadn't the angel let her decide whether or not she was gonna have Jesus? Hadn't she been the one who was gonna get stoned because she was pregnant before she got married?

Hail, Mary. You had it right.

--

"The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green Pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me, thy rod and staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointed my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."

Tymmie had walked through the valley of the shadow of death a thousand times before he had ever heard of the Atrox. A pill-poppin' mom and a drunk dad. Fuck that shit about God being with him. He could remember when his parents were still trying to keep up appearance and made him go to Sunday school every week. They had to memorize the 23rd Psalm. Even when he was five he didn't believe it.

And as he got older, he saw how much more fucked up shit was outside his house and he knew. He knew God wasn't there. He never was. Or there wouldn't be the wanting and the fear the psalm promised there wouldn't be.

The Atrox was there instead. And when Tymmie accepted that. It was all ok. Because the fucked up shit made sense. It was the Atrox, not some benign God in control of the world.

It was a nice thought though.

--

"May the road rise to meet you, May the wind be always at your back, May the sun shine warm on your face, The rain fall softly on your fields; And until we meet again, May God hold you in the palm of His hand."

Murray's father was a strict atheist-communist. There was no prayer at home. Nor should there be in public school. Nor in public space at all. Murray never disagreed with this. Why should he? Religion was a crutch. There was no such thing as the Divine. It didn't make sense.

But when he was researching his family's Irish ancestry for a project in Freshmen Seminar, he found the Irish Blessing. He committed it to memory. There was just something… nice about it. How could he not like such a kind sentiment towards his fellow man? Sure God didn't exist. But that didn't change the feeling behind the statement. Murray liked the idea of wishing people health and happiness. A god, whichever god, didn't have to exist for him to want that, did it?

Funny he should end up fighting in a war between gods… and on the team of the "bad guys."

--

"Agnus Dei, quitollis peccata mundi: miserere nobis. Agnus Dei, quitollis peccata mundi: miserere nobis. Agnus Dei, quitollis peccata mundi: dona nobis pacem."

Stanton had lived for the first few years of his life believing he would one day take his father's place as a prince fighting for Good, fighting for God. Monks had been a part of his daily life from his birth, as had the prayers. The many, many prayers.

Agnus Dei. Lamb of God. It had been his favorite. He had liked to think of Jesus as the lambs he saw his father's peasants taking care of. His older brother called Jesus a lion. They said that was the warrior's Jesus. But lions were devourers. And though a lion could kill all the sin in the world, he couldn't forgive it. Not like a lamb.

A lamb. Innocent. He smiled ruefully to himself. Jesus wasn't his lamb anymore. But maybe… maybe a certain Goddess could be. Only a lamb could forgive a lion. So perhaps only a lamb-Goddess could forgive the lion-Follower. Or maybe he would just devourer her, like the warriors devoured the lamb-image of Jesus.

--

"As I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, and if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Karyl unfolded his hands and crawled onto the unmade bed, strewn across the floor. He didn't know why he still prayed every morning before crawling into bed after a long night of drunken partying and sex. Habit perhaps. He could remember his mother kneeling beside his bed with him as a child and teaching him that prayer, and into his teens, long after she died of cancer in her sleep, he continued praying his prayer.

He hoped that the Lord listened to his mom. That when she died in her sleep, He had taken her soul away.

He doubted the lord would listen to him. Still, he prayed. For her sake perhaps.

Kelly, Cassandra, Tymmie, Murray, and Stanton tumbled through the door. He always got back earlier than them so he could say his prayer. None of them would understand.


End file.
